am extremely irritated right now
Jan. 15th, 2011 08:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardI remember when I used to have actual content. Them was good times, man.
A PSA: if someone cooks something and offers it to you to taste, insulting it is not the way to go. I think most people realize this. However, if someone cooks something and offers it to you to taste, and is deprecating it themselves, perhaps even thinking out loud of ideas which could have made it better, adding your own suggestions is also not the way to go, unless they ask you for them.
We're all writers and readers here, and I'm sure most of us have heard that you shouldn't criticize a WIP to the author's face. (Well, a first draft -- something that's still in the process of being written, and something that the author hasn't asked for concrit on. If they have, different ballgame.) The same thing holds for cooking, guys!
Which is to say, my soup turned out...rustic. (It looks rustic, too.) Rustic is a good word to go with. I can call it research. (However, even if I call it bland, that doesn't mean that you can. Smile and nod, people, smile and nod.)
And to top that off, someone ate the last slice of birthday cake. I had the second to last slice, but still. I mean, birthday cake! One asks, I was under the impression thereof! (My grammar is a little messed up right now, apparently. I blame Latin.)
Anyway. I'm a little pissed. I think the soup will be salvageable in small doses, though I have rather a lot of it left -- maybe I'll try experimenting with it in smaller batches, I think some tomato paste would liven it up. I didn't need my roommate to tell me, "Tomatoes, lots of tomatoes." Actually, maybe even a splash of white vinegar -- or apple cider vinegar, or even balsamic, though right now I only have white and rice.
Also, Whole Foods is not carrying satsumas right now, and I just don't know how to deal. I don't know why! It's still satsuma season! (Well, in California, anyway. All the satsumas I've seen at Whole Foods in the past have been from Louisiana, though.) IF I DON'T GET SATSUMAS I MAY DIE. One of my roommates was going to Walmart today, and I asked if she'd take me with her when she went, and...I think she forgot. (Or she still hates me, one of the two, but I think the first one.) And don't even get me started on my classes. (Am ten chapters behind in Latin, my lecturer's teaching style is completely opposite from my professor's from the summer, my Age of Reformation professor couldn't be a more boring lecturer if he tried, the Tulane professor whose field is the exact thing I want to write about for my honors thesis is on sabbatical for the next year and a half -- you know, the time when I would be writing said thesis -- my schedule is weird and messed up, I'm still not registered for Shakespeare II, I haven't bought all my textbooks, and I'm not going home for spring-slash-Mardi Gras break this semester.) Also my box from home didn't come in the mail today, which means I won't get it until Tuesday (Mail Ops -- and the library! -- are closed Monday for Martin Luther King, Jr., Day, one of the few federal holidays my university condescends to give us off), which means I'm going to have to wait that much longer for my mandolin. Also I want to phone home, but my roommate is here with one of her friends, and I'm just not comfortable with that after last semester's antics.
Oh, and let me tell you how my birthday went. There was in fact a cake, which we did not have until late late late because Maryland decided that she wanted to invite a friend (not someone we knew) and said friend took about an hour to show up, although she did show up with champagne. So Maryland, Alaska, and Texas went off to play Whoonu on the couch, and I settled in at the dining table with my Latin homework. (Which sucked, by the way, see: ten chapters behind.) Maryland's friend showed up, with the champagne, we finally had cake, I had the tee-tiniest mouthful of champagne and decided I didn't like it -- not the taste, not the fizz (I don't like things that fizz) -- then I went back to doing Latin homework and they started playing Whoonu at the dining room table. Then they broke out the wine (Chardonnay; I didn't not like it as much as I didn't like the champagne, but I didn't like it either, and I only had a tee-tiny sip), and kept going. As did I, on my homework (yes, there at the table), until I got it done. Guess who did the washing up the next morning? THAT WOULD BE ME. (Guess who has consistently done most of the washing up, although someone else did all the washing up for the actual making of the cake? THAT WOULD ALSO BE ME. IT TAKES FUCKING THIRTY SECONDS TO WASH A PLATE AND A FORK PEOPLE. TRY IT SOME TIME.)
In less ire-raising news: Miley Cyrus is filming a movie on my campus (I KNOW), and the front half of the academic quad is all decked out for Greek Week in the movie, so it looks ridiculous. They've attached fake cherry blossoms to some of the trees, and they've covered the names of four buildings that I saw on the signs (as well as the part that, you know, says "Tulane University") so that the architecture building is now the Fine Arts Building of Southern Louisiana University and the Richardson Building (not that that narrows it down, we actually have three Richardsons on campus) is now the Law School and contains the Investigative Studies Program. There are posters everywhere that say things like "Go SLU Crawdaddies!" and so on and so forth. I have not seen The Actual Miley Cyrus, but one of my friends has, apparently. And yes, I could have auditioned to be an extra, but I have my dignity, people. I have my dignity.
At least it's now warmer in New Orleans.
I also did not make it down to the French Quarter today. (I meant to go with Texas and Alaska, but Texas didn't wake up until well after noon and Alaska vanished. Also I was making my rustic soup.) I may just bite the bullet and go down tomorrow by myself, thus knocking off one of my new term's resolutions.
A PSA: if someone cooks something and offers it to you to taste, insulting it is not the way to go. I think most people realize this. However, if someone cooks something and offers it to you to taste, and is deprecating it themselves, perhaps even thinking out loud of ideas which could have made it better, adding your own suggestions is also not the way to go, unless they ask you for them.
We're all writers and readers here, and I'm sure most of us have heard that you shouldn't criticize a WIP to the author's face. (Well, a first draft -- something that's still in the process of being written, and something that the author hasn't asked for concrit on. If they have, different ballgame.) The same thing holds for cooking, guys!
Which is to say, my soup turned out...rustic. (It looks rustic, too.) Rustic is a good word to go with. I can call it research. (However, even if I call it bland, that doesn't mean that you can. Smile and nod, people, smile and nod.)
And to top that off, someone ate the last slice of birthday cake. I had the second to last slice, but still. I mean, birthday cake! One asks, I was under the impression thereof! (My grammar is a little messed up right now, apparently. I blame Latin.)
Anyway. I'm a little pissed. I think the soup will be salvageable in small doses, though I have rather a lot of it left -- maybe I'll try experimenting with it in smaller batches, I think some tomato paste would liven it up. I didn't need my roommate to tell me, "Tomatoes, lots of tomatoes." Actually, maybe even a splash of white vinegar -- or apple cider vinegar, or even balsamic, though right now I only have white and rice.
Also, Whole Foods is not carrying satsumas right now, and I just don't know how to deal. I don't know why! It's still satsuma season! (Well, in California, anyway. All the satsumas I've seen at Whole Foods in the past have been from Louisiana, though.) IF I DON'T GET SATSUMAS I MAY DIE. One of my roommates was going to Walmart today, and I asked if she'd take me with her when she went, and...I think she forgot. (Or she still hates me, one of the two, but I think the first one.) And don't even get me started on my classes. (Am ten chapters behind in Latin, my lecturer's teaching style is completely opposite from my professor's from the summer, my Age of Reformation professor couldn't be a more boring lecturer if he tried, the Tulane professor whose field is the exact thing I want to write about for my honors thesis is on sabbatical for the next year and a half -- you know, the time when I would be writing said thesis -- my schedule is weird and messed up, I'm still not registered for Shakespeare II, I haven't bought all my textbooks, and I'm not going home for spring-slash-Mardi Gras break this semester.) Also my box from home didn't come in the mail today, which means I won't get it until Tuesday (Mail Ops -- and the library! -- are closed Monday for Martin Luther King, Jr., Day, one of the few federal holidays my university condescends to give us off), which means I'm going to have to wait that much longer for my mandolin. Also I want to phone home, but my roommate is here with one of her friends, and I'm just not comfortable with that after last semester's antics.
Oh, and let me tell you how my birthday went. There was in fact a cake, which we did not have until late late late because Maryland decided that she wanted to invite a friend (not someone we knew) and said friend took about an hour to show up, although she did show up with champagne. So Maryland, Alaska, and Texas went off to play Whoonu on the couch, and I settled in at the dining table with my Latin homework. (Which sucked, by the way, see: ten chapters behind.) Maryland's friend showed up, with the champagne, we finally had cake, I had the tee-tiniest mouthful of champagne and decided I didn't like it -- not the taste, not the fizz (I don't like things that fizz) -- then I went back to doing Latin homework and they started playing Whoonu at the dining room table. Then they broke out the wine (Chardonnay; I didn't not like it as much as I didn't like the champagne, but I didn't like it either, and I only had a tee-tiny sip), and kept going. As did I, on my homework (yes, there at the table), until I got it done. Guess who did the washing up the next morning? THAT WOULD BE ME. (Guess who has consistently done most of the washing up, although someone else did all the washing up for the actual making of the cake? THAT WOULD ALSO BE ME. IT TAKES FUCKING THIRTY SECONDS TO WASH A PLATE AND A FORK PEOPLE. TRY IT SOME TIME.)
In less ire-raising news: Miley Cyrus is filming a movie on my campus (I KNOW), and the front half of the academic quad is all decked out for Greek Week in the movie, so it looks ridiculous. They've attached fake cherry blossoms to some of the trees, and they've covered the names of four buildings that I saw on the signs (as well as the part that, you know, says "Tulane University") so that the architecture building is now the Fine Arts Building of Southern Louisiana University and the Richardson Building (not that that narrows it down, we actually have three Richardsons on campus) is now the Law School and contains the Investigative Studies Program. There are posters everywhere that say things like "Go SLU Crawdaddies!" and so on and so forth. I have not seen The Actual Miley Cyrus, but one of my friends has, apparently. And yes, I could have auditioned to be an extra, but I have my dignity, people. I have my dignity.
At least it's now warmer in New Orleans.
I also did not make it down to the French Quarter today. (I meant to go with Texas and Alaska, but Texas didn't wake up until well after noon and Alaska vanished. Also I was making my rustic soup.) I may just bite the bullet and go down tomorrow by myself, thus knocking off one of my new term's resolutions.
skittles the manticore thinks your birthday is awesome.
Date: 2011-01-16 07:35 am (UTC)